


to the last syllable of recorded time

by themysticalsong



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Everybody Lives, F/M, Modern AU, idek what I'm doing anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysticalsong/pseuds/themysticalsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and ficlets inspired by Kenneth Branagh’s stage production of Macbeth. Basically, imagine Alex Kingston as modern day Gruoch and Branagh as Macbeth. Originally posted to tumblr, now posting them here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

"Sir, I'm going to suggest taking time to consider and evaluate before you come to any decision."

 

He glances at his wife, the pain and heartache etched in her expressions making him want to agree to what the man in front of them is suggesting. But is it really worth it? A little one of their own would be worth all the trouble, but the pain of losing all the hopes after few months into it, every few years? Is it really worth? Maybe they just aren't meant to-

 

He nods to the doctor, clasping his wife's fingers gently with his, "We'll tell you in a day or two."

 

\--x--

 

He observes her. Watches her discreetly. She was quiet when they left the hospital, she is quiet now. The silence speaks volumes.

 

"I was thinking", he turns to her momentarily, before fixing his gaze on the traffic light, "may be we should look for adopting a child. This is-" he frowns as she remains transfixed with something outside, "Gruoch?"

 

When she doesn't answer, he tries to follow her gaze, his heart breaking as he realises what has her so mesmerised. A squealing little girl, barely a year old, bouncing in her mother's lap.

 

Words die in his throat. Twining his fingers with hers, he presses a soft kiss on the back of her hand, hoping its enough to take her attention from the little girl. "We will get through this, love, we will."

 

She gives him the briefest glance, red rimmed eyes hardly meeting his gaze, and nods slowly, before turning her gaze back outside.

 

At dinner, she barely touches her food. He tries to make small talk, just to take her mind off things, but he himself doesn't have the heart. Haven't they grieved enough to finally have that moment of joy. More than anything, its the dimming of the light in her eyes that hurts everytime the doctors tell them about it. Years of yearning, and yet-

 

But would it really be so bad? May be one last shot?

 

He finds her after dinner. Quiet, lost in her own thoughts, with an aura of unbearable sadness surrounding her, she prepares for bed. Morning may bring in new perspectives, but he can't let her go to bed like this.

 

She looks up in surprise when he puts one of her favourite records on play. It's old, creaky, strange squeaks emphasising every song, but there is something soothing about the melody.

 

"Macbeth-"

 

He doesn't let her complete. Gently taking her hand in his, he tugs at it until she is standing close enough for him to hold her.

 

She is stiff at first, reluctant and hesitant, but he refuses to let her go. His arms around her, Macbeth sways from side to side. He feels the exact moment she relaxes in his arms, a sigh leaving her as she rests her head against his shoulder and begins to move with him.

 

"You really want it, don't you?" He broaches the subject quietly, whispering in her curls. "You really want to go through with it?"

 

He tightens his arms around her as he feels her warm exhale through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. "I do. But not without you."

 

He gazes down at her, a smile curling at his lips as he finds her looking up at him. With a small laugh, he curls a hand around her fingers on his torso, "But I am always with you, dearest." He presses a kiss against her temple, "In every decision. At every step. Partners, remember?"

 

A true smile adorning her features, she hums and wraps her arms around him, swaying and matching steps with him.

 

Together, they enjoy the silence for a while, before he muses, "What do you think about the name 'Findley'?"

 

He chuckles when she looks up in confusion and playfully taps her nose, "If we are going to have a baby, we need to think of names..."

 

Her fond laugh warms his insides. "Pretty sure it will be a boy?" her tone suddenly becomes solemn, "You know it's not 100% guaranteed thing, don't you? What if it doesn't-"

 

He silences her with a finger on her lips and smiles down at her, "I know." Pulling her closer, he tightens his arms around her, fingers playing with the ends of her curls, "We can still hope, right?"

 

With a content smile, she snuggles closer to him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, "Yes. Yes, we can."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His digit hovered over her skin as he waited for her reaction. Less than a year and he was in love, completely and hopelessly, with the woman sleeping beside him. Her fiery spirit coupled with innocence and enthusiasm of a child, every arch of a delicate eyebrow and every amused, and sometimes not so amused, crinkle of her nose-- every colour had seeped through him, painting his days with an energy that had been strangely amiss before now. His partner in every meaning of the word.

 

 

The blissful state between giving in to the urge to sleep and waking up on a weekend-- sometimes he thought there was something deliciously decadent about it. Perhaps, something to do with the company?

 

A feminine groan pulled Macbeth from his sleepy musings just as the warm body next to him stirred-- just a bit-- before relaxing. A smile curled at his lips as he followed the length of the arm slung across his middle, his gaze finding patterns in the curls spilled over his torso.

 

_Gru._

 

Another smile as he gently brushed the curls away from her face.

 

_His Gru._

 

His hands lightly stroked her body as he took the opportunity to observe her more fully, as if he hadn't done this before. The light smattering of freckles over her cheeks, the rather adorable bump on her nose- he had studied them a hundred times, may be more- and yet he liked to count the number of freckles, trace that bump. Just a little shift there, and he could have just kissed the lush pink lips.

 

The woman in question stirred once again, making him realise where and what his hands were doing. Absentmindedly, he began tracing words on her skin.

 

_Gruoch._

 

The arm around his middle tightened and relaxed as she stirred the slightest bit, before going back to sleep.

 

_Macbeth._

 

He struggled to suppress a chuckle as she jerked her arm away with a tiny displeased noise and turned to the other side, promptly going back to sleep. Previous night had been an enthusiastic one, and understandably, she was exhausted.

 

For a moment, he gazed at the line of her back, the dip of her waist tugging him to her. Softly, so as not to wake her up, he scooted closer to her. Brushing his lips against the back of her neck, he began trailing a lazy finger over her back.

 

_I love you._

 

His digit hovered over her skin as he waited for her reaction. Less than a year and he was in love, completely and hopelessly, with the woman sleeping beside him. Her fiery spirit coupled with innocence and enthusiasm of a child, every arch of a delicate eyebrow and every amused, and sometimes not so amused, crinkle of her nose-- every colour had seeped through him, painting his days with an energy that had been strangely amiss before now. His partner in every meaning of the word.

 

He chuckled at his own thoughts. Gru would probably shake her head and call him a sap if she ever came to know about it.

 

Presently, she moved only the slightest bit to shake off his teasing digit before her breathing evened out once again.

 

He let out the breath he had been holding. Emboldened by the lack of any objection to the words themselves, his digits danced over her skin, repeating their motion again and again.

 

_I love you._

 

_I love you._

 

For some reason, this mode of expression delighted him. It was easier than he thought, and he didn't have to face the prospect of her not returning his feelings.

 

_I love you._

 

"Good Lord, Macbeth! I love you too. Now go back to sleep, babe."

 

It happened so fast, her abrupt turn catching him off guard that he yelped in surprise, and probably would have fallen off the bed, if not for the arm around his middle.

 

"Very charming, babe", a dainty eyebrow rose in amusement, her nose crinkling as she looked at him in a way only she could, "almost out of a Shakespeare."

 

Macbeth grinned even as his heart rate struggled to return to normal, "A romance?"

 

"Hmm", she made a pretense of eyeing him carefully, before lying back against his chest, "Nope. A comedy. You're straight out of a Shakespeare comedy."

 

He huffed but remained quiet, wordlessly going over their strange declarations.

 

"So you love me?"

 

He tried not to squirm or fidget as she rested her head over her hands folded atop his chest and looked at him in all seriousness. "As far as they go, you are a moron. But the thing is, you are _my_ moron. And I don’t usually love morons, but so far as you are concerned", she looked straight at him, a smile hinting its presence at the corner of her lips, "I think I can live with the fact that I am in love with a moron."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

"We need to kill the king", she casts a glance towards the man intently gazing out of the window, "there is no way around it, Macbeth. We’ll have to do it."

 

He sighs and turns to look at her, "It is a great plan, Gru, but why do we _have_ to kill the king? Surely there must be some other way-- some other route we could take?"

 

They have been over this countless times-- discussed it endlessly-- ever since she first thought about it months ago. There really isn't any other way, and he knows it. But still he refuses to believe there is no other solution. She pinches the bridge of her nose to ward off the impending headache-- her body has been hurting on and off for past few days; even the baby seems more active than usual.

 

Placing her pen down, she moves her hand over the side of her belly in a soothing motion, and fixes him with the expression of someone dealing with an extremely stubborn child, "There isn't one, Macbeth. I have gone through--", another dramatic sigh and she has to consciously stop herself from hurling something at him. Instead, she slowly gets up from his chair, wincing as her backache returns, and tries to infuse as much calmness she can in her tone, "You know what, I'll leave the script here. Go through it, and tell me if there's scope for any alternative route _without_ changing the basic plot, alright? Send Banquo when you are done."

 

\--x--

 

It is nearly four (or is it five?) hours later when someone knocks at her office door. In the meanwhile, the pain in her lower back has only worsened, making her wonder if it's time to call her midwife. It certainly does feel worse than the mild contractions she had earlier in the week. She has already tried walking around and taking deep breaths, and is trying to calm herself down enough to keep a tab on the contractions passing through her body when Banquo pokes his head through the partially open door.

 

"Gru?"

 

She wonders if its time for a divorce as well.

 

"Gru, are you--?"

 

Ignoring Banquo's concerned look, Gruoch pushes past him and marches ahead to her husband's office. It's awkward- she stops every few steps, takes in a few deep breaths and then pushes ahead- but if she left things in his hands, her play would never see the stage. At least not successfully.

 

"YOU!" the door slams against the wall as she throws it open, and a look of concern passes his startled features when she barges in, "How many times has it been now? Five? Oh no, fifteen- fifteen bloody times I have told you we can't change the script. You have to kill the king and that's all there is to it, but no-"

 

She grits her teeth as another contraction hits on the heels of the previous one. But this issue also needs a resolution, and it needs a resolution now-

 

"Gru, may be we should go to the hospital now."

 

The hint of fear in his voice makes her follow his gaze until she spots the quickly darkening patch near her foot. _Great. Just bloody great._ "No one goes anywhere until we have settled this", she directs her best glare-- given the circumstances, and the pain resonating through her body-- at him, "There isn't any other way and I'm not letting you rewrite my script again and again! Your. Character. Kills. The. King. Are. We. Clear?!"

 

It's probably something to do with the fact that she is beginning to feel light headed, and is completely leaning on him, but Macbeth doesn't put up another argument, only a concerned "As you wish, my dearest" leaving past his lips as he ushers her out of their office and into his car.

 

"Good", she nods as he takes hold of the steering wheel, and lets out a pained gasp, "Now take me to the hospital. I don't think your boy wants to wait anymore."

 

\--x--

 

Its another 12 hours before she is finally cradling a squirming baby in her arms, tears pooling in her eyes even as she tries not to cry. Brushing her lips against the tiny fist, Gruoch trails a gentle digit over her son's body.

 

_Her son. Her little boy._

 

A few tears escape, a smile curling at her lips as partially open blue eyes stare at her, "Findley." She lets out a small laugh and repeats her words, a ball of happiness unfurling inside her, "Mummy's little Findley-"

 

"What about daddy? He's daddy's Findley too, after all."

 

Gruoch laughs as Macbeth closes the door behind him, a feat in itself given the number of things he is holding in his hands. He carefully ties the bunch of balloons to the table at the far end of the room, before crossing the length to her and presenting her with a bunch of flowers, all carefully gathered from her garden. A hoard of plush toys is deposited at the foot of her bed before he finally takes a seat next to her.

 

"May I?" he indicates towards the baby in her arms, and without waiting for her nod, gently picks him up. "Aye, it's daddy's handsome little boy too, isn't he?" Leaning towards her, the baby safely cradled in his arms, he presses a brief kiss to her lips, "Goodness, Gru, I love you so much. Thank you for giving me this."

 

"So emotional, Mr. Macbeth", she teases him, before smiling up at him, "I love you too, babe, and, now, I love you _two_ "

 

He chuckles, but doesn't say anything, opting to gaze down at the infant in his arms.

 

Moments pass in a comfortable silence as the awed new parents focus all their attention on sleeping boy. She is nearly lost in the imagined future in her head when Macbeth breaks the silence, "Gru?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"About the play.."

 

She arches an eyebrow, wordlessly taking the baby from him.

 

He looks at her in slight confusion, but continues, "I was thinking if we could have the king die in a battle with me, and--"

 

"I can give you an option, Macbeth", she doesn't take her eyes off Findley, a smile firmly in place, "either you find a new play and playwright, and I find a new father for Findley, or stop trying to rewrite the play."

 

His eyes widen as Findley squirms and snuggles closer to his mother, as if already in cahoots with her. Barely another moment. "Let's kill the king."

 

 

 


End file.
